Rituals
by LdyAnne
Summary: John and Rodney must participate in an alien ritual to prove their worth as trading partners. Not slash.


Disclaimer: No, they're not mine, but that's alright as long as I can play with them whenever I want.

* * *

Colonel John Sheppard marched along behind their 'hosts' keeping his eye on one Dr. Rodney McKay. Walking ahead of the colonel, Rodney was the picture of abject misery with his eyes downcast and his shoulders hunched. He shuffled his feet along like a recalcitrant child being sent to bed without any supper. You would think they were being marched to their death instead of… Okay, so they'd been asked to do some weird shit to prove their trustworthiness to alien allies, but really this took the prize. 

Not that John was sure why they had to prove their trustworthiness. Teyla and Ronon weren't being asked to take part in any weird alien rituals. Teyla was exempt because she was Athosian. Evidently Athosians were legendary in the Pegasus Galaxy for their trustworthiness. And Ronon didn't have to participate because he was from Sateda, again with the legendary trustworthiness. Also the fact that his entire planet had been destroyed by the Wraith just made people assume that he'd automatically hate them and be on the side of anyone trying to fight them.

John got that he and Rodney were the new kids on the block in the Pegasus Galaxy. And they… he, had, unknowingly, woken up the Wraith, the big bad boogeyman in this part of the galactic sandbox. But they were with Teyla and Ronon. Surely that should count for something? Evidently not. They still had to participate in a ritual to prove their worth as allies and trading partners.

They could always refuse and walk away. The village elders had made that clear to them. They were in no way obligated to take part in the ritual. John and his team would be welcome to return any time they wished. But there would be no formal agreement with Atlantis. And Atlantis needed friends in the Pegasus Galaxy. So far, they hadn't had too good of a track record where friends were concerned. And Atlantis needed the supplies these people could provide. They had a grain thing that was milled just like flour and turned out bread that was light and somewhat sweet. Their fruits were tangy and tart, and even passed the Rodney McKay taste test of approval. No, he and Rodney would go through with the ritual no matter how distasteful it was. It wasn't like the people were asking for their life's blood or their first born after all.

John sighed as they approached the ritual hut, set in a clearing in the center of the village. Rodney still hadn't said a word, which was never a good thing. A quiet Rodney was a thing to be avoided because 'bad things' always happened when Rodney was left with too much time on his own to think.

John drew up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, "You okay, buddy?" he asked quietly.

Rodney scowled at him, "No, I am not okay. How do you possibly think I can be okay," he drew little air quotes with his fingers, "with this? I hate these stupid alien rituals. I don't know why people think we're not trustworthy."

John spoke quietly hoping their hosts wouldn't overhear, "Maybe it's because we come through the gate armed and dangerous?" John understood why they had to go through the gate armed and ready to protect themselves. Hell, he'd written the protocols, but he also understood why it was frightening and intimidating to the people they encountered on the other side.

Their escort stopped at the door of the hut, indicating with a gesture that John and Rodney should enter alone. Rodney balked, standing stubbornly at the door.

John put a calming hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, "We don't have to do this, McKay."

Rodney scowled at him, "What? And have Beckett claim that the entire city got scurvy and it was our fault? No, thank you!" He stomped through the entryway, John following.

As huts went, it was pleasant enough. One big airy room, it had windows on two walls that let in the sunshine and breeze. There was a table under one window that had a platter on it with a steaming pot and two cups. John hoped the pot was filled with the warm drink they'd had at lunch. It had tasted vaguely of warm apple cider.

But McKay wasn't seeing any of those things. It was the bed that drew his eyes. The large, single bed in the middle of the room. He gulped audibly, refusing to meet Sheppard's eyes.

John tried to hide a grin, not very successfully.

"What?" Rodney demanded, roughly. "You think this is funny?"

John sat on the bed to pull off his boots. He set them aside. "Well, it is if you'd just think about it."

Rodney didn't answer. He just gave John his 'you're too stupid to be alive' glare and sat carefully on the opposite side of the bed. He stretched out on the bed gingerly as if afraid it was going to blow up at any second.

"You're not going to uhm…" John waved a hand trying to find the right words that wouldn't set McKay off. "Get comfortable?"

Of course it was the wrong word. With Rodney McKay sometimes there were no right words.

"Comfortable? I don't know how you think I can get comfortable in this situation."

John didn't answer right away. He just unbuckled his holster and laid it on the little table next to the bed. It didn't have a gun in it, but the holster had been left when his 9 mil had been taken away. Rodney's eyes were huge as John took off his tac vest and threw it over the back of a chair. Rodney squeezed his eyes shut when John slid out of his BDU pants and folded them neatly.

"What are you doing?" Rodney demanded, his voice two actives higher than normal.

"Getting com-for-table," John grinned. "I'm leading by example." He stretched out on the bed. It really was very nice, better than the beds in Atlantis. He could get used to this. Maybe if everything turned out okay, he could get one of the mattresses thrown into their trade agreement.

Rodney stood and backed away two steps.

"You can't expect me to…" He trailed off, waving wildly at the bed, the room, John.

"Oh, come on, McKay, it's not like they're asking us to have sex. They just want us to take nap."

Rodney's mouth worked, it opened and closed but no words came out.

John tried for a softer, more soothing tone. "Come on, McKay," he patted the pillow next to him. "Just lay down. You'll like it, you'll see."

Rodney was now pressed against the wall of the hut. He looked like he was trying to escape. "I just don't see how a nap is going to prove to these people that we're trustworthy, Colonel."

John sat cross-legged in the bed, "Look, McKay, it's all an exercise in trust. If we can sleep here it'll prove we trust them."

"But we slept here last night," Rodney thrust out his chin stubbornly and crossed his arms. His stance just screamed that he wasn't going to be napping any time soon.

"Look, Rodney, we slept in our camp next to the stargate. We had someone on watch the entire night." John held up a hand to forestall Rodney's next objection, "Not because we mistrusted these people, but now they want us to prove that we trust them by sleeping in their village, surrounded by them, with no guard," although the fact that Telya and Ronon were out there watching their six would mean that John Sheppard napped a whole lot better. "It will prove that we trust them not to harm us and that we trust them to keep us safe while we're defenseless."

Rodney shuddered, "It's the defenseless thing that bothers me." He paced back and forth across the room, chewing on a fingernail. "I just don't get how this proves that they can trust us."

John sighed the sigh of the deeply put upon. Rodney may be a genius, but sometimes he just didn't have the common sense that God gave a goose. "Rodney, it's because it's so innocuous that it proves they can trust us. If someone walked in here with nefarious intent, they would probably refuse to do something this simple." John laid back again, stretching out his legs. "Come on, just lay down. You'll be asleep before you know it."

Rodney just sort of crumpled. All defiance went out of him and now he just looked miserable. "That's just it, Colonel. I don't nap."

For a moment John's brain refused to process the words. Everybody napped. It was one of the small pleasures of life, one of the immutable laws of the universe – naps happened.

"You don't nap?" he asked carefully to make sure he had heard correctly.

Rodney sat on the bed and finally tugged off his boots. "I just can't get my brain to shut off. It's a waste of twenty or thirty minutes I could be using to save the city. Do you really want me to be napping the next time your ass needs to be saved?" He lay down, but his body was rigid.

It was definite, there was going to be no napping taking place anytime in the near future.

"Come on, McKay, everybody naps."

"I don't, okay," Rodney's mouth was set in an unhappy slit. "I'm going to ruin our trade deal with these people and we won't get the grain or the fruit and it'll be all my fault."

Okay, John was getting why Rodney was so unhappy with the whole deal. "There's gotta be something we can do. Alright, first of all you have to be comfortable. Of course you're not going to be able to nap like that." John waved a hand to indicate Rodney's lumpy, bumpy tac vest, thigh holster still strapped on, and just general constricting clothes. "Come on, out of it now."

Rodney didn't answer; he just began to strip, mumbling unhappily under his breath the entire time. "Stupid Pegasus Galaxy and its stupid rituals. I should be back in my lab saving the city, BUT noooooo, they want me to nap. What a waste of my brain."

By the time he got to the end of his rant, Rodney was down to his t-shirt and boxers. John really had to hide the grin when he saw the smiley faces on the black cotton. He must not have been successful.

Rodney growled, "Not a word, Colonel."

John just shook his head. There was no way he could say anything without laughing, so it was just as well that he remain silent.

Rodney sat again tentatively, scooting onto the bed in increments. Slowly he lowered his body until he was flat, and as stiff as a board.

"McKay, you're never going to nap like that," John commented, stretching out easily next to him. He turned on his side so he could watch his friend.

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe in and out, but his body didn't relax. In fact, if anything, his hands clenched into fists and he grew more tense.

"Wow, you really are a bad napper," John said at last. "What do you do when you sleep at night?" he asked curiously.

Rodney scowled at him, wiggling around trying to find a more comfortable position in the bed. "I work, or I read reports, okay? Until I go to sleep. Kavanaugh's are excellent for sending me to sleep quickly."

"Okay," John rubbed his hands together, a plan beginning to form. He jumped from the bed and went to the table to poured two cups of the aromatic liquid in the pot. He inhaled deeply from the steam. It was slightly different than whatever they'd had for lunch. He wondered if it was something designed to help them sleep. He didn't tell the scientist, but the whole nap thing was a huge exercise in trust.

Would they trust that they weren't being drugged and drink whatever had been provided for them? Would they sleep, surrounded by people they didn't know who could do any manner of things to them while they slumbered? It was true that Teyla and Ronon were free and unfettered (John hoped), but they wouldn't be able to do much if the people of the planet turned hostile and decided to do unspeakable things to their sleeping 'guests'. John and Rodney had very much turned themselves over, trusting in the good intentions of their hosts.

John took a cup to Rodney and sat next to him on the bed to take a sip from his own cup. It was sweeter than the drink they'd had at lunch, but it felt good going down. Warmth spread through John's body and he suppressed a yawn. Rodney took a suspicious sniff of the aromatic liquid.

"No citrus, I promise, Rodney," John assured him.

"Do you suppose it would be good or bad for the trade agreement if I died of anaphylactic shock?" Rodney asked sourly.

"McKay," John huffed out in annoyance. "You're not going to die of anaphylactic shock. Although if you don't drink, I may kill you."

Rodney didn't appear to take him too seriously, he just took another sniff before sipping cautiously from his cup. He looked up at John in surprise, "Hey, this is good! Do you suppose we can get them to include this in the trade deal?"

"If you'll just go to sleep," John told him with a grin. He stood and went to pull the shades down over the windows. John had always found that dim lighting was always more conducive to napping.

Watching him from the bed where he lay propped up among the pillows, sipping from his cup, Rodney demanded, "What? Are you like the Grand Master of Napping?"

John grinned at him, "I've been an expert napper from way back, McKay. I always got high marks in napping in kindergarten. Just lay back and leave it to me, you'll be asleep in no time," he assured his friend.

After he was satisfied that the room was as dim as it was going to get in the middle of a bright sunny day, John sat back down on his side of the bed. He scooted into place, pulling a pillow from the pile that McKay had commandeered.

"Hey!"

John held up a finger to his lips to shoosh him. McKay subsided unhappily, leaning back into the six or so pillows he had left.

"Alright, now," John said, his voice quiet and even, "just relax and close your eyes."

Rodney shot him an askance glare, but did as requested, squeezing his eyes shut. John didn't mention the fact that his head was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle and his body was still unnaturally stiff if he actually meant to sleep. No, John had a plan.

"Now, I'm going to tell you a story."

"You're going to what?" Rodney's eyes popped open and glared over at the colonel sitting with his back against the wall next to him. "That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

"I'm all ears if you've get a better idea," John replied evenly returning Rodney's glare with one of his own. "Because this is all I've got."

John could see that Rodney was thinking hard. Finally he just closed his eyes and turned his back on Sheppard, taking out his frustration on the pillows by punching them once or twice.

John, deciding that was the only answer he was going to get, began his story, "Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far, away…"

John heard the muttered, "Oh, please," but chose to be the bigger man and not respond.

He continued with his story, "There was an Air Force major who loved to fly. He loved to fly anything that could get off the ground," Rodney wriggled into the bed a little farther, in the process ending up closer to John. John put out a tentative hand and carded it through Rodney's hair as he spoke, "but mostly he loved to fly anything that could go over 200 miles per hour. And he was really good at he did. He helped lots of soldiers…"

"What in the hell are you doing?" Rodney twisted around to stare up at John in disbelief.

John felt himself blushing, "It was something my mom used to do to help me sleep when I was a kid. I could stop…"

"No, no." Rodney waved a hand, "If you think it'll help." He settled back down into his pillows, closing his eyes.

John picked up his story again, "Anyway, the Air Force major got in a lot of trouble with the mean men who were his commanding officers because he disobeyed a direct command and tried to save a friend's life," he continued carding his fingers through Rodney's hair, not daring to think about what he was doing, just telling his story and listening as Rodney's breathing evened out and the man fell into sleep.

John continued talking a little while longer, making sure that McKay was all the way asleep. Finally he lay down on his own pillow, stretched out next to Rodney. The day was pleasant and the soft sound of Rodney's snore soon lulled John himself into sleep.

Neither man stirred when the door opened silently. Two of the elders of the village looked in to find them there stretched out on the bed, peacefully sleeping. They exchanged pleased smiles before quietly closing the door. They returned to where the rest of the council (and Teyla and Ronon) waited anxiously with the news that their new allies were indeed sleeping the sleep of those who trust.

* * *

A/N: Written for the International Nap Day Challenge. Thanks to chocolatephysicist for betaing. Any mistakes remaining are my own. 


End file.
